I don’t remember the first time Pete Seeger wrote me a letter (the early 1990s?) but I remember thinking, “whoa, Pete Seeger wrote me a letter! And it’s like 2 pages long!” It was only over the course of many years, as he continued to write to me, in long hand, often in red ink… penmanship slowly deteriorating as the years passed… that I sort-of got used to the idea.

Pete was a great comrade to me and I tried to be a good comrade in return, to come when he called. The reason I can claim to be his comrade at all is because of his insistence on walking alongside people, not in front of them. Within our camaraderie was the essential relationship of teacher and student. I learned a heck of a lot from him about being a folksinger and an activist. In our every interaction there was a lesson and I payed close attention.

I remember meeting him at the first of many benefit concerts in which we would both participate. It was a typically well-meant but disorganized folk affair, and I was surrounded by stressed-out, agitated old lefties on the one hand, trying to keep the show moving along without losing their cool, and a lot of ego-driven performers on the other hand, jockeying for the limelight and who gets to headline. I was very young at the time and struck by all the unexpected and unfortunate vibes. And then in walked Pete. Within 15 minutes of his arrival he had everybody holding hands and singing in one big circle backstage. He said it was to “warm up” but I felt he was doing the work of grounding the event in the spirit in which it was intended. He instantly transformed the scene with his powerful presence and brought us all back to the purpose and joy of why we were there.

Pete taught me that it is not enough to do good work, you have to do it with the right spirit or it is no good at all.

Folk Singer Pete Seeger circa 1963.

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I once watched him do a press conference backstage at Madison Square Garden on the occasion of his 90th birthday celebration. One reporter rattled off a long history of his outstanding accomplishments and then asked, “Can you tell me, Mr. Seeger, what you are most proud of?” There was a pause and then Pete responded, “I stayed married to the best woman I ever met for 55 years and we raised 3 children and 6 grandchildren.” It struck me as a radical feminist flip of the script to hold up family and a history of positive personal relationships above worldly achievements.

Pete taught me you are never too old or too male to be a radical feminist.

When I contacted him to ask him if he would make a guest appearance on my recorded version of “Which Side Are You On?”, a Florence Reece song which he recorded and popularized back in the 1950s, he called me back the same day. In fact, he called me back twice and sent one letter my way before I even got a chance to get back to him! He was tireless and passionate and when he was excited he moved fast and enthusiastically.

Pete taught me that to be a good activist you have to do it yourself and you have to do it now.

We rendezvoused at the Walkabout Clearwater Sloop Club on the banks of the Hudson and he laid down his banjo part in one take. Good thing too because immediately in walked a children’s singing group to use the space for rehearsal. Pete started holding court and teaching the kids the history of that song. We ended up recording everyone singing together. That is what folk music is all about and Pete was a master.

I could tell infinite stories about things he taught me and ways in which he brightened my world but now today is slipping away and I have the rest of my days to tell them and try to embody his teachings. Thank you, Pete.